


Juxtaposed

by ckrets (orphan_account)



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, No Mark Jefferson, Slow Build, also featuring minor shenanigans with some other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ckrets
Summary: Max and Nathan get stuck together. Frequently. It’s not as hot as it sounds.





	1. Part 1

_i._

_That time Max was stuck on a rollercoaster with Nathan Prescott._

* * *

The scent of cotton candy, deep fried food, and popcorn fills the atmosphere as rides and kiosks slowly light up against the darkening sky. Thrilled screams intermingle with sound effects and cheers that radiate from game booths, echoing throughout the fairgrounds. Mechanized noises emanate as eager patrons line up to ride their favorite attractions. A continuous wave of people filters in and out of areas, always in motion, except for _that one group_ that likes to stand in the middle and hinder the flow of traffic.

Step to the side, people. Geez.

Max sits with Kate and Brooke at a wooden picnic table while Warren waits in line for the bathroom. Brooke is passively checking her phone while Kate stares at the people passing by. Kate looks lovely with her soft features, especially while clutching her giant, pink teddy bear. Max can't help it when she reaches for her camera. She aims, clicks, and steals a perfect shot of Kate, who glances over at Max with wide eyes and a sweet smile.

"Thanks for inviting me, Max," Kate says kindly. "I'm having a good time today."

"Of course, Kate," Max replies. "It wouldn't be the same without you. I'm glad you're having fun."

Kate holds up her teddy bear. "I think I'll name her Strawberry."

Max gives Kate a warm smile. "That's a cute name."

"I'm surprised at how excellent your ring tossing skills are," Brooke chimes in. "Who would've guessed quiet Kate had an arm like that?"

Kate laughs, "I didn't know I had it in me either, but something inside me just clicked!"

The three girls turn their heads as Warren calls out to them from a distance. He waves his arms in a frantic gesture that signals them to come to him, while standing in the middle of a mobile crowd. Some people glare as he accidentally bumps into them. The dork.

"We better go to him before he gets ran over," Brooke says, amused.

The three of them head over to where Warren is idly stationed. Warren flashes them a cheeky grin. Brooke gives Warren a playful shove.

"Whoa, easy there!" Warren says. "Don't maul me."

"You're in everyone's way," Brooke says matter-of-factly. "Move."

"Alright, alright," Warren says in defeat. He starts walking, his face lighting up like a shining beacon. "I'm just so excited to ride Rainbow Road! It's supposed to look _awesome_ at night. And it's supposed to be _insane._ The upwards launch is incredibly fast. The drop is supposed to be really steep and inverted. And there's tons of sharp turns and crazy loops. Plus Mario Kart sound effects and three laps, just like the games! I'm mega hyped you guys."

Kate squeezes Strawberry, apprehensive. "Guys," she says hesitantly, "I think I'm gonna sit this one out. It might just be too much for me." She gives everyone a sheepish smile.

"Aw c'mon, Kate," Warren pleads. "It's gonna be so much fun!"

"No thanks," Kate insists politely but firmly. "I'll just wait for you guys by the exit."

"Oh alright," Warren says. "But you're gonna _totally_ miss out."

"Maybe next time," Max intervenes, elbowing Warren gently. "Let's not force her, okay?"

The sun has set completely. The entire park is illuminated by dazzling lights, an iridescent nighttime wonderland. The entrance for the ride is a giant, circular arch that is decorated with stars of varying colors. A multicolored sign reading _Mario Kart: Rainbow Road!_ hangs just below the arch. The rollercoaster track in the distance is a glowing, rainbow gradient. It all looks beautiful lit up against the starry sky.

Rather than sitting on the nearby benches, Kate decides to enter the ride's gift shop. She takes Max's and Brooke's bags, telling them it is no trouble at all. Warren _heavily suggests_ she keep an eye out for their ride photo so she can take a picture of it with her phone. Kate waves goodbye to Max, Warren, and Brooke before entering with Strawberry. Warren eagerly runs ahead of Max and Brooke to catch a spot in line. They run after him, not wanting to be left behind, and not wanting to have to cut other people just to reach him.

"Thanks for waiting," Brooke says sarcastically. She crosses her arms. "Way to leave behind your party."

"Sorry guys," Warren says, chuckling. "I'm just _so_ excited!"

"We can tell," Max adds, a small smile upon her lips.

The wait is about an hour, which isn't too bad considering how popular the ride is. The queue is so crowded that everyone except the three of them begin to coalesce. The three of them chat amongst themselves. Warren and Brooke talk about nerdy things only they would understand, but Max pipes in every once in awhile when she recognizes something. Warren does his best to include Max in the conversation, but sometimes geeks out and goes off on a tangent.

After a few more people, they finally reach the passenger assignment area. A male crew member smiles as they approach. "How many in your party?" he asks.

"Three," Warren says on their behalf.

"Each car can only fit two," the crew member tells them. "One of you has to ride by yourself; is that okay?"

Warren glances over at Max and Brooke with a nervous expression.

"That's fine, I'll do it," Max tells the crew member. Brooke attempts to mask her enthusiasm; the expression on Warren's face asserts his disappointment.

The crew member nods. "Rows four and five," he says.

The individual cars of the coaster's train each mimic a kart from the Mario Kart games. The walls of the boarding area are decked out with checkered flags. The starting line of the tracks are glowing, checkered tiles accompanied with a banner suspended above labeled _Mario Kart._ Two signal lights are posted below the banner. Warren practically jumps for joy at the attention to detail given to the entire attraction. Max must admit, it is quite gorgeous and rather authentic.

After the previous passengers exit, the gates in front open and the three of them each step into their respective cars. Max buckles her seatbelt and tightens the strap. Warren and Brooke's car is based off of Yoshi's Kart while Max's car is modeled after Daisy's.

A female crew member approaches Max. "Do you mind if a single rider rides with you?" she asks.

"Not at all," Max says, smiling pleasantly.

The crew member reciprocates the smile before turning to the people waiting in line. "Single rider!" she calls out. "We need one single rider!"

"Max!" Warren shouts in front of her. "You ready for this?"

Max grins. "Always. I love a good thrill."

"Well, well. If it isn't Max... Caulfield—is it? Didn't expect to see you here."

Max looks to her left to find Nathan Prescott moving towards the coaster car where she sits. He enters, fastens his seatbelt, and gives her a subtle smirk.

Max just stares at Nathan, bewildered. "I didn't expect to see you either," is her reply. "Where is the rest of the Vortex Club?"

"They've had enough rides for today," Nathan says, a bit salty. "But I couldn't miss out on this one."

Max had only seen Nathan every now and then at Blackwell, usually right beside Victoria and her minions. Wanting to minimize the amount of drama as much as possible, Max hadn't gotten herself entangled with the likes of them. Thankfully, she never had any reason to. Victoria would throw shade her way on occasion, and even directly insult her and her photography. Warren would mention some of the shit he gets from Nathan from time to time, but he would always reassure her that he can handle himself and that it was all "no big deal." But nothing ever escalated, no fights broke out, and Max preferred to keep it that way.

"Hate to break it to you, Caulfield," Nathan says smugly, "but selfie sticks aren't allowed on this ride."

"A selfie stick won't work on my camera," Max points out. She flashes a smile. "But I'm gonna do a really cool pose for the photo op."

Nathan sneers. "I forget you're stuck in the Stone Ages, little miss hipster. And don't make me laugh, Caulfield, you don't even know when the photo'll be taken."

A crew member walks up to them and pushes down the lap bar, locking it in place. The lap bar doesn't nearly come close to feeling tight and secure as Max would've expected. She tugs on the lap bar. It doesn't budge. Max stares at the gap between the bar and her belt. This ride is supposed to go upside down, right? That's what Warren said. And there aren't any overhead restraints to keep passengers from falling off?

She hears Nathan exhale deeply. "Caulfield?" he says, slight tension in his voice. "Do you feel safe?"

"No," Max admits, anxiety mounting. She can feel her heart beating through her chest. "Do you?"

"I don't know."

A male crew member's voice echoes throughout the boarding station. "All clear. Enjoy the ride."

The floor drops and the coaster moves towards the "starting line." Max grips the lap bar tightly, and Nathan does the same. The stoplights on both sides begin to count down. Top red light blinks on. Middle red light blinks on.

Max doesn't even get to see the bottom light flash green before the coaster launches at an incredible speed. Music begins to play in the speakers resting beside her head, along with the sound effects that Warren had predicted. She even hears character voices corresponding to their respective cars. The colors of the track swirl together as the coaster zooms across. The loops and inversions aren't as frightening as Max anticipated; the coaster is moving so fast that the momentum makes her feel a bit more secure.

It is indeed a magical ride. And like Warren had said, it seems as if they'll be getting three laps around the track. Max, feeling more at ease, releases her hold on the lap bar and puts her hands up in the air. She starts screaming heartily. It feels good to let loose and enjoy the ride. When the third lap begins, the music speeds up. Max swears she can hear Warren shout in front of her, "It's just like the games!" She grins. Damn, this is fun.

There is a screech of metal.

The coaster suddenly brakes, abruptly jerking everyone forward. It stops at the top of another hill, with a drop lying mere feet away. At first, people assume it's one of the ride's features. But when the music cuts off, the panic sets in. Except for the little kids, no one yells or cries out in terror. What is mostly heard are aggravated complaints of the mildly inconvenienced. A little girl whines. A mother demands compensation. A teenage boy mentions that this will be a story to tell his friends. Max won't lie; being stuck 150 feet in the air isn't the most calming experience in the world.

"Oh come _on,_ " she overhears Nathan say in exasperation. "This is such bullshit!"

"New rides often need tweaking," Max tells him loudly, making sure her voice carries over the distress of the other passengers. "We just got unlucky."

"Whatthefuckever. I'm gonna make sure my father files a lawsuit against the park," Nathan declares. He pounds his fists against the side of the car. "Jesus! I can't believe this had to happen!" He rocks his head in slow, circular motions. Nathan winces. He rubs the back of his neck and sighs. "My fucking neck! Shit!"

"Maybe you shouldn't move it around like that," Max warns. "You might make it worse. Wait until you can speak to a doctor or at the very least, ice it."

"Wow, Nurse Caulfield over here," Nathan says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He points a finger at her and raises his voice. " _Do not_ tell me what to do. And don't even pretend like you care. I do not need that shit right now."

Asshole. Instead of replying, Max just leans back and soaks in the scenery. She is so not in the mood to start an argument with the King of Blackwell.

"Warren! Brooke!" Max calls out. "How are you two holding up?"

"Oh, we're just peachy," Brooke yells.

"How are you holding up, Max?" asks Warren.

"I'm fine," Max tells them. An icy wind sweeps by. "It's kinda cold, though."

"I know, right?" is Warren's reply. "This is such a bummer."

It could be worse. They could be stuck upside down, for starters. Or the train could have been derailed, crushing the lives of innocent bystanders while simultaneously killing the passengers within. Max shudders. Back to happy thoughts. Well, if they had to be stuck, this would be the most ideal place to be stuck at. Not only is the track stunning at night, but from where she's at, she has a killer view of the park. Max wishes she had her camera with her at the moment.

She does, however, have her phone in her pocket. Max scopes out her surroundings. It doesn't appear like they will be leaving any time soon. She reaches for her phone and takes a few shots of her environment. Then she flips the camera around on her phone and turns the flash on. Max poses profile, pretending to gaze out into the distance as she takes the shot. The flash catches her off-guard. When Max opens her phone to view the photos, she frowns at her selfie. Her face is scrunched up. Not what she was aiming for.

"Nice one, Caulfield," Nathan says, snickering. "That's gotta be your worst one yet. And that's saying something!"

Max resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Think you can take a better selfie than me, Prescott?" she asks nonchalantly. "They are my trade, after all."

Nathan leans forward in his seat and raises an eyebrow at her. "Are you challenging me, Caulfield?"

"I wasn't really."

Nathan scoffs, leans back, and turns away. "I'm not into that selfie shit anyways."

Max's phone vibrates. It's a message from Kate.

_KATE: I heard the ride you guys are trying to go on got stuck. Are you guys heading back now?_

_MAX: Actually we're the ones that are stuck up there. Wave to us. It might be awhile._

_KATE: Oh my goodness! I pray that everyone is safe._

_MAX: Thank you. I bet you don't regret not joining us._

_KATE: Not one bit. Strawberry and I will wait on the sidelines._

_MAX: Guess what? My ride partner is Nathan Prescott. What are the odds?_

_KATE: I'll pray extra for you._

Max places her phone back into her pocket. She wishes that she could be stuck with more entertaining company. Actually, Nathan does intrigue her, even if it's simply due to the fact his world and his life are so vastly distinct from her own. It's also interesting getting someone else's perspective on art and photography. Too bad Nathan has to be such an ass about everything. It makes for rather challenging conversation, especially when it doesn't need to be.

"What's your art style like, Prescott?" Max asks, opting to be bold. She might as well make the most out of the situation. Max just hopes that she doesn't end up making him an enemy by the end of this. The cold shoulder is infinitely better than that.

Nathan snaps out of a distant trance. He shoots her a confused look. "Like you even care," he says in an icy tone.

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't," Max says, playing it cool. "But I'd rather pass the time talking than sitting around doing nothing. We're stuck. We can't get out of it, so we might as well, right? I'm not saying we have to be friends by the end of this."

Nathan laughs, taking Max by surprise. "Fair enough, Caulfield." He sits back and places his hands on his head, demonstrating composure for once. He flashes a strange look at her. "You seriously wanna see my photography? Coming from a girl who takes selfies all day, I bet you're only interested in yourself."

Max rolls her eyes. "I have an appreciation for all styles. I try to separate the art from the artist. I can't talk shit about a work if it's genuinely good. Try me."

"Jesus, you sound so _pretentious_ ," Nathan says. Regardless, he still reaches into his pockets and pulls out his phone. "Most of my stuff is on my computer, but I do have some things here that I can show you." Nathan rubs the back of his neck. His right leg is bouncing up and down. He hands Max his phone. "Just swipe left, and _only_ left."

"Yeah, okay."

To Max's amazement, Nathan's photography is quite good. She had always assumed that Nathan got accepted into Blackwell on account of his family's donations, without any genuine talent backing him. No, this boy definitely has potential. The way he angles his shots and utilizes black and white contrast conveys a darker tone for most of his images. His theme and style remain consistent throughout his works. The subjects of his photographs range from solemn to almost disturbing, but he handles it with a certain finesse. Impressive.

Max smiles and turns to Nathan, who is fiddling with his hands and looking straight ahead. "They're really cool," she tells him. Nathan glances over as she hands him back his phone. "I think the way you capture your subjects is hauntingly beautiful. I must admit; some of them are a bit eerie. But I didn't expect this kind of work from you."

Nathan shoves his phone back into his pockets. "That's because you don't know _shit_ about me." He releases a heavy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. He huffs. "It seems like everybody's got something to say. People just can't seem to keep their fucking mouths shut. Everyone thinks they got me figured out, but they don't. They all assume I can't do shit just because my family runs Arcadia Bay. But they don't know shit. I'm above them. I've got nothing to prove."

"When you're in charge of the Vortex Club, people can't help but be judgmental," Max points out. "You're right; it isn't fair for anyone to assume things about you and your life. But when you put yourself out there as someone who's running Blackwell, and when you harass other students… you can't blame them. You don't get to choose how people perceive you. You just have to portray yourself in way that you want to be seen."

"Fucking preacher over here," Nathan hisses. He glares at Max. "You are not the boss of me, Caulfield, got it?" Nathan grunts. His voice intensifies. "You can't control me!"

Max shifts uncomfortably in her seat, shaken by Nathan's sudden outburst. She breaks eye contact with him and chooses to stare out the side of the coaster car, admiring the brightly lit attractions below. Max clears her throat, a slight tremble in her voice. "I am not trying to control you, Nathan. I was just offering some input to your situation."

For an instant, Nathan's face softens. The moment swiftly fades, however, as Nathan's expression shifts back to its hardened state. "I don't need your advice, _Maxine,_ " he declares snidely. "You are not my friend. Your words mean nothing to me."

If her words really did mean nothing, then he wouldn't have reacted the way he did. A part of Max wants to bring out her inner sass, but another part urges her to bite her tongue. She opts to bite her tongue. It's probably for the best. But her inquisitive nature gets the better of her. Max glimpses at Nathan. "Prescott?" she asks cautiously.

" _Holy shit,_ what is it now?"

The aggression in his voice almost convinces Max to back down. Almost. But she has already disturbed the lion from its slumber. She decides to pry. "How _do_ you want people to see you?"

The question catches Nathan off-guard. His eyebrows narrow. He seems pensive, and most possibly irritated. "I don't have to fucking tell you," he finally says. He exhales. "Jesus, you sound like my goddamn therapist."

Nathan's eyes widen as the words slip out. He stares at Max. Max stares back. Her mouth is hung ajar. Max snaps out of her trance, her gaze still focused on Nathan. He too seems to be shaken out of his dumbstruck state; his expression contorts into something indefinable. "Shit! Forget I said that," Nathan says quickly. He lowers his eyebrows. "And if you start going around and telling people about my secret—"

"I won't tell a soul," Max tells him gently. "I promise. And there is nothing wrong with therapy. I think it's great you're getting help with whatever you need."

"Yeah, whateva," Nathan says. "Just keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you."

God, this boy can be so… insufferable. And fickle. No matter how diplomatic Max is, she just can't win. Conversations with Victoria Chase are more preferable at this point, truly. At least Victoria doesn't snap at her the way Nathan does. Victoria may be Queen Bitch, but she doesn't frighten Max. She's merely stuck-up.

"Caulfield?" Nathan asks, his tone seeming more amicable.

Max glances over at him in awe. "Yeah?"

"How do _you_ want people to see you?"

His words take her by surprise. Honestly, Max never really gives other people's opinions much consideration. Especially after dealing with the likes of Victoria Chase, Max is disconnected from what most people think of her and her photography. Of course, she highly values the concerns of her friends. And she does reflect upon what her instructors have to say. She sighs. It's a loaded question. Max feels stupid for even asking Nathan it in the first place.

"I guess I want people to like me," Max begins, unsure of how to respond. "But who doesn't? I mean, who wants to go through life being hated by everyone? But I'm also cool if they don't." She pauses. "I think I just want people to see me as a decent person. That's the gist of it, anyways."

Nathan's eyes remain fixated on Max. His lips are pursed together slightly. "Do you hate me?" he asks bluntly.

Max blinks. She contemplates for a little bit. "No," Max eventually says. "I can't say that I like you, Nathan Prescott. But I don't hate you."

They don't speak much after that.

It's perfect timing, because the fire department shortly arrives a few minutes later. A tall, mechanical ladder stretches out to the right side of the coaster and meets the first car on the train. The lap bars disengage. A male firefighter is at the top of the ladder, assisting the passengers in the first car onto the ladder. They begin the terrifying descent to reach solid ground. Max swallows. On one hand, she desperately awaits to be free from her elevated prison. On the other hand, she dreads the treacherous journey. One slip…

"That's a long way down," Max says to herself. She notices how fidgety Nathan has become. Max opens her mouth, wanting to say something to ease his mind, but stops herself. Nothing she tells Nathan will soothe him, of this Max is certain. It's better to say nothing than to say something that triggers a more extreme reaction. Bite. Your. Tongue.

An eternity has flown by when the ladder finally reaches Warren and Brooke. Warren is first. The firefighter reaches out to Warren and helps him onto the ladder.

"Don't fall," Brooke says, her face reflecting concern.

"Right," Warren replies. He gulps.

"Be safe," Max tells him sternly. "And don't look down."

Warren flashes a sheepish smile at Max. "No problem, Maximum Overdrive. I got this."

Brooke is next. She seems more unfazed in the face of danger, but Max can't always tell what's going on in that girl's head. She admires Brooke's ability to retain a composed, outward demeanor. Max and Brooke exchange soft glances.

"Take it easy, Brooke," Max says.

"You too, Max," Brooke tells her. "You'll be next soon enough."

Before the ladder moves to Max's side of the rollercoaster, the fire department waits for Warren and Brooke to finish their descent. Max releases a calm sigh when she watches her friends make it safely onto the ground. The relief doesn't last long; it switches to an overwhelming sense of foreboding as the mechanical ladder rotates to her side.

The firefighter extends his hand towards Max. She unclasps her seatbelt and swallows, resisting the temptation to look at the people below. She stands up. Max shivers at the cool, night breeze. The distance between her and the firefighter is like a valley. Max's palms are covered in sweat, and her heartbeat is accelerating. After Max reaches for the firefighter's hand and has a good grip on the ladder, Nathan calls out to her.

"Hey Max," he says, voice firm. "Be careful on the way down."

Max glances upward, meeting Nathan's face. The corners of her mouth turn up slightly. "Thanks, Nathan. You too."

Nathan gives her a subtle nod.

Max takes her first step.

_Part 1 of 3._


	2. Part 2

_ii._

_That time Max was stuck in an elevator with Nathan Prescott._

* * *

Max sits in Chloe's truck, leaning against the window and staring as punk rock music blares throughout the interior and towering trees flutter by. The early morning sky begins to brighten the entire forest, dim light seeping in from the horizon. Max closes her eyes and smiles as she hears Chloe's voice singing along to the music. The truck hits a bump on the road, startling Max as it trembles and jerks her upright. Chloe's laughter fills the truck, and Max glances over at her. Chloe cocks her head in Max's direction, their eyes meeting. She grins widely and cheers while raising her fist in the air.

"That was fun, yeah Max?" Chloe beams. She punches Max in the arm. Max winces, but smiles nonetheless.

"If you count nearly giving me a heart attack fun," Max says, leaning back in her seat.

"And I do," Chloe says without hesitation. "Didn't you get the memo? Freaking out hippies is my new profession. Got hired yesterday. I need some practice before I start, but I'd say I'm hella good at it." Chloe winks, and Max chuckles.

"Future employee of the month," Max adds.

Chloe smirks. "You bet your ass!"

The stretch of road continues to roll on as the truck travels against the pavement. Max continues to close her eyes, her head pressed against the window. Although her eyes remain unopened, she can detect the rays of the rising sun streaking in through the windows. Chloe, who is humming to the beat of the music, stops for a moment and gasps in awe.

"Whoa. Amazeballs."

Max opens her eyes. In its brilliant glory, a pristine lake presents itself to Max, surrounded by beautiful, darkened cliffsides, the warm sunrise lighting up the morning sky like colorful fire.

"Dude, get out your camera," Chloe tells Max, who has already taken her polaroid camera out of her bag.

"Already have it," Max says, grinning at Chloe. She points her camera at the lake and shoots. She relaxes, soaking in the beauty of the landscape as songs continue to reverberate throughout the truck.

"We're almost there," Chloe says, face lighting up even more. "This class trip was a hella good idea. Didn't know Principal Wells could actually plan out something cool like this."

"It was the Vortex Club's idea," Max points out. "Principal Wells just mandated that they include the whole senior class."

"I'm surprised; those rich snobs actually did something useful for once," Chloe says.

"It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," Max says. "Let's make the most of it."

"Hell yeah!" Chloe cheers. She swerves the truck tightly to the right, the entire vehicle rattling violently as it turns. Max clings to the edges of her seat as her seatbelt keeps her from flinging forward. Chloe steers with one hand and elbows Max with the other. "Look! There it is!"

The four-story inn where the Blackwell senior class will be staying at is perched far away enough from the cliffside to be considered safe, but close enough to admire the lake in all its beauty. Out in front are two small, square fountains spewing out water. The surrounding area is decorated with brightly colored flowers of varying hues and varieties. A pool area is enclosed towards the back of the inn, decked out with elegant lawn chairs, jacuzzis, and marble tiles.

"Gotta hand it to those wealthy pricks," Chloe says, mildly impressed. She brings the truck into the parking lot where several other cars are already parked. "They really know how to pick out a sweet location. Is this an inn or a luxury resort? We're only gonna be here for the weekend."

"Seriously," Max concurs. "But I guess the Vortex Club only wants the best there is. Not that I can complain. It's beautiful out here."

"No shit," Chloe says. "And not to mention all of the luxurious benefits! Free food, big ass beds, and _room service!_ " Chloe wiggles her eyebrows mischievously. "Max, you and I are gonna live like royalty for these next two days!"

Max and Chloe exit the truck and begin unloading their luggage from the back. Chloe sports a backpack and a duffel bag whereas Max simply has her school bag and a suitcase. Before they head out, another car rolls into the parking lot. It contains Warren, Kate, and Brooke. Max waves. Kate waves back. Warren also gives a cheery wave as he drives, nearly colliding his car into a truck that is parked a little too far out. He slams the breaks. Max gasps and watches as a horrified expression plasters overs Kate's face and as irate fury paints over Brooke. Max turns to Chloe, who is enjoying herself and looking highly amused.

"Well that happened," Chloe says. She uses her head to point at the inn. "C'mon Max. We'll catch up with them later. First, let's check into our room."

The inn's lobby is decked out with several photographs of the lake at various times of day and during various seasons. The tone is warm and welcoming. Everything looks brand new, from the walls to the floors to the furniture. It's almost as if the Vortex Club paid to have this inn built for the mere purpose of hosting this class trip. Max wouldn't put it past them, honestly.

After receiving their room cards, Max and Chloe take the elevator up to the third floor and haul their luggage to their room, which is located at the tip of the west wing. The room is decently sized, with a single, king-sized bed, a loveseat, a mini-kitchen, a flat-screen TV sitting on top of wooden drawer, and a brand-new bathroom. A large window encompasses a grandiose view of the lake. Chloe tosses her bags onto the floor and leaps onto the bed, her arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish. Max settles her belongings on the ground near a nightstand that is adjacent to the bed.

"It feels hella nice to just relax after that three-hour trip," Chloe says, exhaling deeply. She sits up and pats the bed. "Wanna join me in bed?" Chloe asks in a seductive voice.

Max rolls her eyes and smiles. "You're such a flirt."

Chloe winks. "Damn right!" Chloe beckons to Max with her right index finger. Before Max can join Chloe, a punk rock ringtone echoes throughout the room. Chloe digs into her backpack and answers.

"Rachel!" Chloe says, the smile on her face widening. Chloe looks at Max with the utmost enthusiasm, and Max gives her two thumbs up. "Yeah I did… Right now? Wait, really? No way! That sounds fucking rad! I'll be there!" Chloe turns to Max, grips her shoulders, and shakes her frantically. "They're having a pool party right now and Rachel invited us. Max! Do you know what this means?"

Max just smiles and waits for Chloe to continue.

"I get to hang out with Rachel," Chloe begins, "in a _bikini._ "

"At long last," Max says. "You're a flirt and you can't smooth talk your way into Rachel yet?"

"I'm trying!" Chloe says as she searches for her swimsuit from her duffel bag. "It ain't easy, Max. My charms don't work on her as easily as they do on you. I gotta wear her down." Chloe takes out her swimsuit and dangles it in front of Max. "You comin?" Chloe begins stripping into her swimsuit. "Dude, you could totally be my wing-woman when I epically fail to communicate with that goddess."

Max shakes her head. "As much as I want to see you put your moves into action, I think I'll nap for a bit. Maybe I'll join you later."

Chloe dangles her swimsuit closer to Max's face. " _Suit_ yourself!"

"Enough with the puns."

"Don't pretend you don't love them."

After Chloe leaves, Max sticks in her earbuds and lies on the bed, drifting into sleep quite rapidly. The ride over here was loud and bumpy, not that Max minded, it just didn't make for ideal sleeping conditions. When Max wakes up, she checks the alarm clock on the nightstand. 12:00 pm. It's about an hour's worth of sleep. Not bad. She checks her phone and grins when she views her messages. Six from Chloe.

_CHLOE: Max i need u_

_CHLOE: Come here asap_

_CHLOE: Im crashing so hard dude_

_CHLOE: Why do i fail at flirting with cute girls_

_CHLOE: Currently dying_

_CHLOE: Dead_

Max places her phone on the bed and unzips her suitcase. She finds her black swim shorts and swim top, exchanging it with her current attire. Figuring it would be great to document everyone having fun, Max decides it'll be a good idea to take some shots. She grabs her bag and phone. Max glances at Chloe's last message. Might as well respond.

_MAX: Are you still dead?_

_CHLOE: D E A D_

_MAX: I'll resurrect you. See you in five, ladykiller._

_CHLOE: MAXI PAD, MY LORD AND SAVIOR_

Max exits the room and heads for the center of the hallway. She waits by the elevator. Feeling awkward standing in her swimsuit, Max removes the towel from her bag and wraps it around her waist. The elevator dings, opens, and reveals a half-naked Nathan Prescott in blue swim trunks, his arms folded across his chest. He seems rather aloof, that is until he glances over at Max and their eyes interlock. Max can feel her cheeks flare up, not at the sight of Nathan, but because she is so precisely aware of her own lack of clothing and of the fact she is gaping at Nathan. Not moving, not saying a word.

The elevator doors begin to close. Nathan reaches over and presses a button. The doors reopen, and Max stares at Nathan for a few seconds.

"You comin?" Nathan asks. Max jumps at the unexpected sound of his voice. Nathan smirks. "Or are you just gonna stare at me?" He winks. "Not that I can blame you."

Max regains her composure and enters the elevator. "Thanks for waiting," she says, ignoring his remark.

Nathan shrugs. "Sure." A pause. "You know," he begins smugly, "I'll allow you to take a picture of me, just this once." Max shoots him a bemused look. "I'm feeling generous today," Nathan continues. "A photo of me would be something new to add to your collection. My gift to you, definitely better than your monotonous selfie schtick."

The elevator doors close, and they begin their descent.

Max rolls her eyes and puts a hand on her hip. "Do you have any other insults besides the obvious?" she quips. "Or are you lacking in the creativity department?"

The expression on Nathan's face is priceless. He seems quite taken aback, and Max feels a surge of pride overtaking her. Damn, it feels good to be sassy. If there's anyone who deserves it, it's Nathan Prescott. Of course, it doesn't last for long, because no victory against a Vortex Club elite ever lasts long. Nathan's shocked face is soon replaced with an offended look. Oh boy. Here we go. Max begins to question her life choices.

Nathan's brow furrows and he opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a grunt as the entire elevator abruptly lurches, bouncing slightly. Instead of the doors opening, an alarm buzzes. Max and Nathan jolt at its sudden intensity. They wait. The doors don't open.

"Are you fucking shitting me?" Nathan says. "This can't be happening right now." He goes up to the door and starts banging his fists on it. Max sighs and leans back against the elevator railing. Nathan grumbles and gives the door a swift kick. He winces in pain while clutching his foot. "Jesus! My fucking foot!"

"I don't think hurting yourself is going to help our situation," Max says. Nathan opens his mouth again, probably to initiate some sort of snide remark, but the expression on his face signals to Max that he is _actually processing what she had said._ A wild concept. He merely shoots her a glare and mumbles a "Whatthefuckever" under his breath. Max can feel another surge of pride hit her. Two for two. Nathan grumbles something incoherent while Max walks over to press the emergency button. A bell sound rings.

Max and Nathan wait for half a minute, to no avail. This time, Nathan slams the emergency button, his frustrations apparent. Ten seconds. Still nothing. Nathan then repetitively jams his finger against the emergency button, his impatience mounting with every passing second. By the twentieth time, he gives the button one last punch with his fist. Silence. Max rolls her eyes and takes a seat on the ground.

"Maybe I can pry the doors open," Nathan says, his foot tapping aggressively on the ground.

"Don't do that," Max says sternly. "You could end up seriously injured or even dead."

"Shit shit shit," Nathan mutters to himself. He directs an anxious look towards Max. "Well, how else are we supposed to get the fuck out of here?" He clenches his fists onto the elevator railing. "What kind of hotel service doesn't respond to emergency calls? This is all _bullshit!_ "

Max takes out her phone. "We'll be fine, Nathan," she says in an even tone. "I'll send out a text and we'll be rescued soon enough. How does that sound?"

Nathan inhales and exhales slowly. He runs a hand through his hair and glances over at Max, giving her a nod. "Yeah," he says. "That sounds fine. Just hurry it up, will you? I can't stand being trapped in here."

Max sighs, feeling irritated. Ungrateful prick.

_MAX: Hey, I'm kinda stuck in an elevator, along with Nathan Prescott. Help?_

_CHLOE: Holy shitballs, I'll get help right away_

_CHLOE: No one deserves to be stuck in an elevator with Nathan Prescott_

_CHLOE: Sit tight for I shall rescue you_

_MAX: How the tables have turned. Thanks, ladykiller._

_CHLOE: HARDLY_

_MAX: ^_^_

_CHLOE: NO EMOJI_

"It's done," Max says. "Now we just have to wait."

"Jesus _Christ,_ " Nathan whines. "For how long?"

"I don't know," Max says. "We're probably an hour away from the nearest city. I'm afraid it might be awhile."

"The hell? Fuck this place! I better get some compensation for this shit."

Nathan continues to curse under his breath and begins pacing around in small circles. Max remains seated on the floor of the elevator while watching Nathan circle around. It makes her a bit uneasy. Although Max isn't fond of the situation, Nathan seems to be far more agitated.

After a few minutes, Nathan gives up his pacing and slumps onto the floor, his eyes darting at the elevator door. Max digs through her bag and finds her music player. She reaches for it and looks over at Nathan, whose left leg is trembling.

"Do you want to listen to some music?" Max asks him. She shows Nathan her music player. "I know we probably don't have the same music taste… but it might distract you for a little bit."

Nathan shakes his head. "Nah," he says softly. "I don't think that'll help. It usually doesn't." He exhales and slouches into himself. "But thanks anyways."

Max puts her music player back into her bag. "Let me know if you change your mind," she says.

"Mhmm."

Max finds it strange, yet intriguing how once again, she finds herself stuck with Nathan Prescott beside her. Nathan Prescott, who maintains an arrogant composure in the presence of others but crumples at the face of adversity. Nathan Prescott, whose personality is as volatile as it is enigmatic. Nathan Prescott, whose money and looks give him popularity because his character cannot. What are the odds that Max will have yet another chance to socialize with Nathan Prescott in a one-on-one setting like this?

"Nathan?" Max asks.

Nathan looks up. "What?"

"What do you mean when you say music 'usually doesn't' help?" Max asks, looking at Nathan directly in the eye. "Have you been in a situation like this before?"

Nathan's face scrunches. "You're really fucking nosy, you know that?"

His response is anticipated. Max shrugs. "I'm just trying to make conversation."

Nathan leans back against the elevator wall. He sighs, "Yeah, okay. Fair enough. But that's a little too fucking personal for a conversation opener, don't you think?"

Max nods in understanding. "Fair enough."

Silence follows. Nathan doesn't press forward and neither does Max. Max is quite pleased, actually. For being trapped in an elevator with someone whom he couldn't call a friend, someone whom he probably disliked, Nathan isn't hostile. His initial outrage has now dampened into unacknowledged defeat, and he has resigned himself to the futility of aggression to the situation. Wanting to distract herself, Max takes out her music player and puts on the right earbud. But before she can place the left one, Nathan speaks.

"Max."

She looks up. "Yeah?"

Nathan shuffles awkwardly in place. "Have you ever been in a situation like this?" he asks, almost hesitantly.

Max takes out the right earbud and leans her head back against the elevator wall, thinking. She stares up at the ceiling before turning her attention to Nathan. "Sort of," Max says. "I was playing hide-and-seek with Chloe one time and I hid in her closet, behind her clothes. She wasn't very thorough when she checked, so I ended up waiting in that closet for half an hour. To a little kid, it feels like four hours."

Nathan only nods, his gaze focused. Max notices how intently he listens to her as she talks. "Anyways, I gave up, and Chloe got annoyed that she didn't have the chance to find me. But I was so scared in there. It was so dark and I felt so alone." Max pauses, a sense of relief hitting her softly. "But this situation is different. It's not dark and I'm not alone." She lets out a small laugh. "And this time, Chloe knows exactly where I am."

Another string of silence fills the elevator. Max is not surprised. Now that she has a chance to reflect upon it, her conversations with Nathan Prescott have been mainly initiated and carried out by her. And now that she really thinks about it, Max doesn't mind that. Not at all. Strangely enough, talking to Nathan is almost… therapeutic? Fascinating? It's the equivalent of talking to the random person who sits next to you on an airplane.

"Why are you telling me this?" Nathan blurts out. There is no harshness to his voice, no snideness. Merely genuine curiosity.

Max glances over at Nathan, matching his curiosity. "Because you asked me," she states.

"Well, no shit," Nathan says, "but just 'cause I ask doesn't mean you have to go all deep shit on me."

Max shrugs. "I don't really find that story personal," she says. "I'm not revealing my innermost desires, fears, and vulnerabilities. I got scared playing hide-and-seek. I was a kid. It happens. It wasn't traumatic or anything."

"Oh, right," Nathan says, his eyes wandering somewhere else. "Yeah." He brings his knees closer to his chest. Nathan avoids eye contact, which Max is grateful for because she can't seem to pry her eyes away from him. _Curiosity killed the cat,_ she reminds herself. Nathan's eyes meet hers for an instant. Max flushes and quickly diverts her attention. Nathan lets out a "hmph."

Max sighs. "Look Nathan," she says, "you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I know I can be nosy sometimes."

Nathan rolls his eyes. "Sometimes?" he snorts.

"Whatever," Max says, listless. "We don't have to talk at all if you don't want to. We can just drop this."

An amused expression creeps onto Nathan's face. He cocks his head subtly, a smirk dangling on his lips. Nathan shakes his head. He lets out a brief chuckle.

Max narrows her eyes her eyes at him and tilts her head slightly. "What's so funny?" she asks.

"I just find it interesting," is his reply. "You're always pushing it. It's like you can't stop asking so many goddamn questions or some shit until I give in."

An icy stare suddenly overtakes his once amused expression. Nathan's tone shifts. It's serious. Bitter. "You're sick of me, aren't you?" Max freezes. Nathan just keeps going. "You're tired of my shit attitude. Heh. Figures. I'm so difficult not even Max fucking Caulfield, the nosiest bitch in Blackwell, wants to talk to me."

Max frowns. "It's not that," she tells him.

"Then what the fuck is it?"

Goddamn. Max openly admits that she can be prying and when she decides not to pry for once, Nathan gives her shit for it? _God fucking damn._ Max closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens them, she eyes Nathan dead center. "I'm tired of provoking you by asking you personal shit you don't want to talk about," she says matter-of-factly. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I don't want you to be upset with me. And I'm not sick of you, Nathan, but yeah, I am tired of the shit attitude you give me while I try my best to be civil. You don't make it easy for me."

Eyes widened and brows furrowed, Nathan remains silent as he absorbs Max's words. He inhales deeply and exhales slowly. His face, sharp and unyielding, softens. "Sorry," Nathan mumbles, voice so low and hushed that Max almost doesn't catch his words. "Sorry," he repeats, eyes now pointed at the ground. Nathan twiddles his fingers. "Hey Max?"

"Yeah?"

Nathan's gaze meets hers. "I don't mean to be so difficult," he says. Max isn't sure of how to respond. Nathan glances up at the ceiling, his expression hardened.

"My whole life is fucked up," he continues. "My father's… kind of an asshole. It ain't fun. I mean, I'm not the kind of son he wants, but fucking whateva. I'm under so much pressure. It feels like hell. And if that ain't enough, there's also a shitload of things that are fucking wrong with me. I gotta take these meds, but I guess they don't do shit because I'm still fucking difficult to handle. I guess I'm broken or some shit. Father doesn't want me 'cause I'm broken. I'm hated 'cause I'm broken. But I don't wanna be like this all the time. I just fall into old habits, I guess. It's so easy to let it all get to me. It's shitty, but that's how it is."

"You really feel comfortable sharing all that with me?" Max asks, intrigued. Nathan ponders that thought. A few seconds of silence pass, but they feel like an eternity.

"I guess I am," he finally states. Their eyes lock. "You know that this all stays between us, right? I don't talk about this shit to a lot of people."

"Of course," Max says. Her face softens, but her voice remains firm. "Listen, Nathan," she says. "I understand that you have a lot going on in your life. And I'm really glad that you gave more insight into who you are. It sucks that a lot of aspects of your life are really shitty. Truly. I just feel like it's no excuse for treating people the way that you do."

Nathan scratches the back of his head. "Jesus, I open up and you fucking preach at me…" His tone isn't harsh; rather, it shows a hint of regret. Nathan sighs.

"You don't want to give people the wrong impression of you," Max says.

Nathan sneers. "They already hate me," he says. "There's no point."

Max shakes her head. "They don't have to keep hating you."

"I'm broken, Max," Nathan says in a low, sullen tone. "There's no fixing me."

"You are _not_ broken," Max affirms, eyes piercing through Nathan's. "And if someone tells you that, they're wrong. I know it's easier said than done, but you can't let all of the negative forces in your life influence who you are." Max stands up, walks over to Nathan, and sits beside him on his right. "I don't think you're a bad person, Nathan. I do think you make bad choices. But you don't have to."

Nathan turns his face away from Max. "I don't know how to do that," he admits. "I do a lot of bad shit, okay? There's no fucking way I can stop it."

"Keep going to your therapist," Max tells him. "Take your meds. And just be more considerate of others from now on. I think that's a start."

Nathan looks at Max. Silence fills the atmosphere. He leans his head back. "Yeah, okay," he says. "Honestly, I still think there's no fucking point to it. People are still gonna hate me. But, fuck it. I guess it can't hurt." A pause. "Goddamn though, it's not gonna be easy." Nathan shrugs. "Whatthefuckever. I still got drugs. It's all good." He raises a brow and flashes a smirk. "You ever smoke a peace pipe, Max?"

Max rolls her eyes. "Do I look like the type?"

Nathan laughs. "You should. It'll loosen you up a bit. My advice to you."

"Pass."

A newfound sense of peace washes over Max. Perhaps her inquisitive nature isn't always a bad thing, if it can lead to exchanges like these. Max knows she shouldn't get her hopes up. He is Nathan Prescott, after all. But if Nathan Prescott can see eye-to-eye with "the nosiest bitch in Blackwell," then that must be a silver lining. He's not bad. He just needs help. And support.

"Hey Max?" Nathan asks. He seems timid, for him at least. "You have your phone with you right?" Max nods. Nathan shuffles his feet. "There's something I like to listen to. It really helps calm me when I feel stressed. Can I see your phone? If that's okay? You're on the Wi-Fi, right?"

"Uhh yeah, sure." Max digs through her bag and hands Nathan her phone.

"Earbuds?"

Max looks through bag again and finds her music player. She detaches the earbuds from it and drops them onto Nathan's lap as he surfs through YouTube on her phone. Nathan plugs them into Max's phone and hands her the left earbud. She places it in her left ear as Nathan sticks in the right earbud. Soothing sounds begin to fill her head, but it's not what Max expects. She glances at the phone screen.

"Whale songs?" Max asks, and Nathan sinks into himself slightly, his cheeks a light pink.

"Y-yeah."

"It's really nice," she says. "I can definitely see why you would listen to this."

Max smiles and Nathan smiles back, but only for an instant. For the remainder of their time in the elevator, they sit together without saying another word, but rather, enjoying the sounds of whales and each other's company. It's strange, to be sitting there with Nathan Prescott, listening to whale songs of all things, but it's a change of pace. It's something that is likely never to happen again. That makes this moment all the more unique.

When the elevator starts to move again, they both jolt unexpectedly. Nathan gives back Max's phone and earbuds, which she takes and places back into her bag. They stand next to each other as the elevator descends, but with just enough distance to appear nonchalant. Max sighs with relief as the floor number changes to 1. The elevator bounces to a halt.

The doors open.

_Part 2 of 3._


	3. Part 3

_iii._

_That time Max was stuck in a grocery store with Nathan Prescott._

* * *

Max searches through boxes underneath her bed as Chloe lies on it, curled up in a fetal position and groaning in agony. Chloe clutches her abdomen as she digs her face into Max's pillow, hyperventilating. When Max finds nothing of use, she slides the boxes back underneath her bed and moves to her desk to see if there's something, _anything,_ that can aid Chloe. Max starts tossing old papers and unwanted junk she hadn't known she had, not caring if she leaves a messy trail. Still nothing. Max releases a frustrated sigh.

"I'm sorry, Chloe," Max says. She walks over to the bed and gives Chloe a firm rub on the back. "I've got nothing. I'll go ask around and see if anyone has any pain meds or a heating pad."

Chloe is tense, from the expression on her face to the stiffness of her body. "Max," she chokes out, "I've never had cramps like this before. _Shit._ Ugh. Fuck." Chloe wretches in pain, and Max knows Chloe is doing everything in her willpower not to cry. "Goddammit! Why is this happening to me?"

"Maybe we should take you to the emergency room," Max says sternly. "We have to make sure you'll be okay."

Panic rises on Chloe face. "Please no, Max," she pleads. "I don't want mom or step-dick involved. That's the last thing I need right now."

Max kneels beside the bed and looks into Chloe's eyes, concerned. "What if it's serious?" Max says, terrified and voice trembling. " _Then_ what, Chloe?"

Chloe shakes her head vigorously. "I said no!" Max jolts back. Chloe sighs. "Sorry, Max. I didn't mean to snap at you." Chloe inhales and exhales slowly, finding some composure. "Can you please just get me some fucking painkillers or a heating pad or some shit? This shit's torture."

Max nods. "Whatever you need, Chloe."

Chloe's lips curl up, just barely. "Thank you, Max," she says. "Seriously. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Max avoids Victoria's room and heads over to Kate's door. She knocks, but there's no answer. Kate is probably out studying with Warren and Brooke. Which means… Brooke isn't here either. _Great._ Max heads down the hall and knocks on Dana's door. She can hear Trevor from inside. Max gulps. She hopes she's not interrupting anything.

Dana opens the door, swinging her hips and smiling. "Hey, Max! What's up?"

"Chloe's having really bad cramps," Max says, expression somber. "I was wondering if you had any meds or maybe a heating pad."

"That's awful," Dana says with sympathy. She ponders. "Yeah, I definitely have some pain meds she can take. And I'm pretty sure I have a heating pad lying around here somewhere. Just hold on for a sec. Us girls need to help each other out, you know?"

After a few minutes of searching, Dana returns to the door with a small box of Advil and a heating pad. Max beams. "Thank you so much," she says.

"No problem," Dana says. "Chloe can borrow it for however long she needs. But I checked the box, and there's not much left. If I were you, I'd run down to the store and pick up some more."

"Thanks again, Dana."

"Anytime, Max."

Max returns to her room. She finds Chloe on her knees with her head tucked in between, a ball of pain. God. Poor Chloe. Max goes to the power strip and plugs in the heating pad. She reaches for a water bottle underneath her bed and sits next to Chloe on the bed's edge.

"Take this," Max says as she hands Chloe the heating pad. "I also brought you some Advil, but there's not much left. I'm going to the store to get you some more." Chloe unfolds from her wringed state to apply the heating pad. She sits up to take the medicine, but lies on her back after she does. Max takes the blanket on her bed and drapes it over Choe. "Is there anything else you want me to get for you?"

"Yeah," Chloe replies weakly. "I could use more tampons. And get us some chips and popcorn. We should stream a movie or something so it's not completely depressing as my uterus descends into hell on your bed." Chloe lets out a feeble smile. "You're hella awesome, Max. Thanks."

"Let me know if you need anything else, okay?"

"Ugh, you sound like my mom."

Max pouts. "Joyce rocks!"

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Whatever," she says, throat dry and voice weak. "Just get your ass in gear and go get my shit, hippie."

The sun beats down on Arcadia Bay's residents and is perched high in the sky. It's warm but not hot, and there's a slight breeze that feels nice when it brushes against the skin. Students are sprawled out, some looking peaceful as they soak in the sunlight. It's a beautiful day. Max takes out her camera, aims it at her face, and snaps a picture.

The Arcadia Bay Grocery & Deli is only a few blocks away from Blackwell, situated at a convenient cornerstone location for its students. Max replays the mental checklist in her head. _Advil. Tampons. Chips. Popcorn._ She furrows her brow. Maybe some soda would go well with everything. Max takes a basket and begins searching for the items, going in order to ensure she doesn't miss a single one. _Advil. Tampons. Chips. Popcorn. And yeah, I guess I'll grab a soda._

Only one checkout lane is open. _Of course._ It's quite a line too, and one poor soul is working the registers alone. It's definitely understaffed here. Max takes out her phone from her pocket to check the time. Someone nudges her arm. Max looks over her shoulder to find Nathan Prescott, who stands behind her nonchalantly.

"Hey Max," he says. He scans her items with his eyes. "Some movie night you got going on or some shit?"

Max tilts her head. "Actually, yeah," she says, amused. She scans his items. Alcohol and cigarettes, with various snacks thrown in. Not in the least bit surprising. "Vortex Club party tonight?"

Nathan shrugs. "Eh, not really," he says. "More like a night in doing shit with friends. Nothing fancy, but enough to get fucked up in just the right ways, you know?"

"Actually I don't."

Nathan rolls his eyes. "Right, right. I keep forgetting. Little miss pure and wholesome or fucking whateva. I still think you should get high at least once in your life. It's fun as hell, and believe it or not, I think you'd like it if that stick wasn't shoved so tight up your ass." He is glancing at her with a smirk, and Max ponders if he's sending her an invitation. He raises an eyebrow, and Max thinks maybe he really is.

"Thanks for the tip," is all she can say. Max glimpses at him, bemused. "You're purchasing alcohol?" she asks, incredulous. "You're what? Eighteen?"

Nathan snickers. "And? Nobody's gonna say or do shit about it since my father essentially owns this town." He kicks his foot in the air and huffs. "The one good thing about being his son, I suppose."

"Cut him out of your life," Max says bluntly, and she stares at Nathan with serious eyes. He stares right back at her, doe-eyed. That's when Max remembers that the two of them are out in line waiting to checkout at a grocery store, _in public._ This isn't like the other times she's held more than thirty seconds of interaction with him. "Honestly," she continues in a softer tone. "It seems like you'd be so much happier if he wasn't involved."

"Well, you're probably right," Nathan says in a low voice, "but shit's not that simple."

Max nods. "Yeah, I understand."

The line has grown much shorter during their conversation, and Max begins loading her items onto the checkout conveyor belt when the lights abruptly go out. People look around curiously, waiting for the power to kick on again. Police sirens begin to sound from outside. The manager of the store suddenly sprints to the entrance, frantically gesturing at the girl at the register to follow him.

"We need to lock this place down!" he says in a hurry. The girl at the register seems confused and reluctant. The manager waves his arms wildly. "Now!" The girl jolts and begins rushing towards the entrance with rapid speed. The manager whips around to face the people waiting in line. "Everyone, go towards the back of the store and get down! There's a robbery going on next door!" he orders and then continues heading for the entrance.

Baskets clatter against the ground and feet shuffle rapidly against the tile floors as storewide chaos sets in. People range from having panicked whispers to hyperventilation while some other customers standing frozen in terror. Max drops her basket and turns around to find Nathan clenching his fists, eyes on the floor, motionless. Max reaches for the sleeve of his jacket and gently tugs at it.

"Nathan," she says. "We need to move. It isn't safe here."

Nathan opens the palms of his hands and snaps out of his trance, making eye contact with Max. His head bobs and his breath quivers. "I can't believe this is fucking happening," he says. "Yeah, let's go."

Max and Nathan follow the mass of shoppers to the corner of the store that is the furthest from the entrance, which happens to be the dairy section. They sit down as more people continue to sit alongside them, and soon there is an entire cluster of frightened shoppers huddled together as police sirens continue to echo outside. Max whips out her phone and sends a few quick texts to Chloe.

_MAX: I'm stuck at the grocery store. There's a robbery going on nearby._

_CHLOE: Holy fucking shit, please for the love of god stay safe._

_MAX: Thanks. I hope the Advil is working._

_CHLOE: It is. Max Caulfield, you fucking better come back to me. I can't lose you._

_MAX: I'll do my best, Chloe._

The cold air emitting from the refrigerated items causes goosebumps to appear on Max's skin, and she crosses her arms and rubs them furiously for warmth. It _had_ to be the dairy section. Of course. This day just keeps getting better and better. Nathan glances over at her, with a peculiar expression on his face.

"You're cold?" he asks in a hushed tone.

Max rolls her eyes. "No shit," she whispers back.

Nathan pulls his arms out of his sleeves, stripping off his jacket. He drops it onto Max's lap. Max's fingers wrap around it loosely; she is too awestruck to do anything. Never in a million years did she think Nathan Prescott would be letting her borrow his jacket. Truly, this is an iconic moment. One for the history books. Nathan nudges her with his elbow. "You just gonna fucking stare it at or are you gonna put it on?" he asks in low murmur. "I'm not the one freezing my ass off here. This shit'll keep you warm."

Max cracks a smile. She stares Nathan's jacket for a couple for more seconds before putting it on. It's so comfy, being smooth on the inside and quite soft on the outside. And Nathan wasn't joking; Max notices how she is instantly warming up. This is the stuff Max wishes she could afford but can't. "Is this _Nathan Prescott_ I'm talking to?" Max asks quietly. "I didn't know you were capable of pulling off such a cheesy move. My hero."

"Hey, I can be nice sometimes," Nathan says in defense. He scrunches his face and ponders. "Well, once in awhile. As long as people don't piss me off. Or push me around. Or get in my way." He sighs and tugs at his shirt collar, and Max watches as he slumps. "I'm trying. Old habits are a bitch to kill."

"I've been noticing," Max tells him. "I think you're really making a difference."

Nathan perks up, locking eyes with Max. "You really think so?"

Max nods gently. "Yeah, I do. Don't get me wrong, though; I still think the Vortex Club is elitist trash. But I've noticed that students have been feeling safer. I think that's amazing."

Nathan doesn't reply. His brows are furrowed and he seems lost in thought. And maybe content. Hell, Max isn't a mind reader, even though she likes to believe she's better at deciphering others than the average person. Max sucks in a deep breath and places her hands in the pockets of Nathan's jackets. More police sirens whirr, and she can see streaks of blue and red from the furthest window. Something is being sputtered through a megaphone, but it's far enough away that it's indiscernible. The people around her either chatting quietly amongst themselves or crying softly.

A gunshot. Everyone shakes in apprehension. Max's whole body stiffens, her hands trembling. People start huddling inwards. Max is forced to scoot closer to Nathan, and now they're shoulder to shoulder. Max is also shoulder to shoulder with someone else, a stranger, and yet Max wonders if he goes to Blackwell as well. Max notices Nathan tense up beside her. His leg is trembling slightly, and he leans towards Max, whispering in her ear.

"These people are getting too close," he admits. "I don't do so well when I'm fucking cramped like this. This shit is starting to freak me out." He's constantly shifting his position and Max can tell: Nathan's really getting agitated. More so than she's seen him before. "I can't stay like this, Max," he pleads softly. "I need to get out of here. I just need some room to fucking breathe."

"Okay, Nathan," Max says as evenly as she can. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We can move to the edge. Would that be better for you?"

Nathan nods quickly. "Yeah. Thanks Max."

Max and Nathan gradually scoot their way outside the crowd of terrified civilians, apologizing quietly to whomever they cross paths with. No one protests their movement, and everyone is eager to let Max and Nathan linger on the outskirts while the rest of them pack inwards more tightly. Nathan leans against the transparent refrigerating that houses ice cream. Max sits next to Nathan, sandwiched between him and a random person, but at a comfortable distance from the latter.

A couple of minutes pass without them speaking to each other. There is hushed chit-chat amongst the other grocery store shoppers. All Max can think about is how the situation next door is unfolding, when it will all be over, _if_ it will all be over. She tries her best not to quiver so much. Then, Nathan nudges Max. It startles her, but she keeps herself level. She turns to look at him.

"Yeah?" she says.

Nathan scratches his head, almost appearing timid. "It's nothing," he says, and Max narrows her eyes. He hums, and shifts his position slightly. "It's just fucking weird you're not talking as much. I don't know. I guess talking to you when crazy shit happens helps keep my cool or whateva."

"To be honest," Max says in a hushed voice, "I'm really freaked out. There's this huge feeling of dread that won't go away. You probably can't tell, but I'm shaking." Max takes her left hand out of the jacket's pocket. Nathan briefly holds her hand, and he feels it tremble slightly. After a few seconds, he awkwardly removes his hand. Max continues, shoving her own hand back inside the jacket. "This situation isn't like the others. Those were just inconveniences. This time, it's serious. All that's on my mind now is just hoping we all make it out of here safely."

Nathan points his attention toward the ground. "You're tougher than you look," he tells her. "Yeah, the rollercoaster thing was annoying as hell for sure. But when we were trapped in that elevator, that shit was fucking scary to me." He gulps. Max looks at him attentively. "When I was a kid, my father would sometimes lock me in a closet as punishment for being a fucking disappointment, like I always am. And we're not talking ten minutes here. I'd be stuck in there for fucking hours. And the switch for the light was on the outside, so I was trapped there in the dark, with no way out. It was shitty as hell."

Max's eyes widen. Max frowns and imagines what it would be like to be so young and so helpless in a situation like that. A deep sense of anger, yet also sadness, strikes a chord inside of her. "That's awful," she whispers. "That can really mess you up. What kind of parent _does that_ to their child?"

Nathan grunts, and he tightens his fists. "The shitty kind," he says softly. "Anyways, being in that elevator reopened all that bullshit. That's part of the reason why I was on edge the whole time we were stuck in that thing. But you weren't fazed by it at all. Back then, I didn't know if we were gonna be rescued or not. It just seems to me like anyone else would freak the fuck out. And even just now, when you told me you were shaking and shit, it caught me off guard. Jesus, you _still_ look fucking calm; I don't know how you fucking do it."

"I don't know what to tell you," Max says quietly. "I guess I'm just naturally calm in the face of danger." She looks at Nathan with peculiar eyes. "I'm impressed. You're really carrying the conversation this time. It helps distract me." Max flashes a soft smile, and Nathan returns it. "Talking to you when crazy shit happens is really nice."

Nathan rubs the back of his neck. It looks like he wants to say something, but doesn't quite know what to say. Max eases up a little, her muscles loosening a bit as she leans back against the refrigerator. She stares at her legs, which are criss-crossed. Another couple of minutes pass by without either of them speaking. Suddenly, Max hears Nathan clear his throat, and he speaks.

"This is gonna seem out of nowhere," he says, "but I was wondering." Their eyes lock. "Why do you wanna be a photographer so fucking bad?" Max shoots him an odd look. "No offense. I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I just think since, you know, you're not rich or anything—" He stops himself. Max is side eyeing him. "Shit. Jesus, I'm not fucking good at this. What I'm trying to say is that art's not always about talent. Being rich and having connections is what really fucking matters. How did Vic put it? 'The art game is brutal' or some shit like that." Nathan sighs. "Fuck, I don't know where the hell I was going with this."

"I think I know what you're trying to say," Max says. She ponders and hums. "I've wanted it ever since I was a little kid. Photography is a part of who I am." Max smiles, nostalgia striking her. "I love how lets me view the world from afar, but close enough to be connected to it. And to have the opportunity to make a career out of that? _Hell yes._ I know it's tough to get yourself out there, but I don't think I can be anything _but_ a photographer. I don't care if people think it's not a 'sensible' career path. I don't have a passion for anything else. Not like I do for photography."

Nathan doesn't say anything for a few seconds; he just stares at Max with what could quite possibly be a hint of admiration behind his eyes. When Nathan finally speaks, his voice wavers with awe. "And your parents?" he asks. "They support your goals and shit?"

"They do," Max says, and she catches herself smiling again. "I'm forever grateful."

Nathan focuses his attention to the floor. He fiddles with his fingers, clenching and unclenching them into loose fists. "You're lucky, Max," he says. "Not everyone has parents like yours." He sneers. "My father just thinks I'm doing this shit as a hobby. He doesn't believe I have the balls to make a career out of it. What the fuck does he know? Because I don't see it that way."

Max glances over at him, intrigued. "Really?" she asks. "How do you see it? I always love to hear different perspectives from my fellow photographers."

Nathan leans back. "It's therapeutic as hell," he says. "It helps me project whatevathefuck I'm feeling without having to keep it bottled inside me. If I didn't have photography, I'd probably be worse off than I am now, and that's saying shit. But it's cool. I'm cool." He takes a deep breath and then exhales slowly. He eyes Max. "There's something else that's been on mind," he admits. "I gotta ask: why the retro look? I get that you've got that whole indie hipster bullshit going for you, but _why?_ "

Max laughs softly. It feels good to laugh, especially in such a highly stressful situation that is beyond her control. It also feels good to talk with Nathan Prescott like this, because let's face it, she hardly ever gets the chance. It finally seems like they're having a normal conversation, one that isn't intense and doesn't make Max want to pull her hair out. To gain insight into his viewpoints is something Max never thought would happen. And yet here she is.

"You could say it's my aesthetic," Max says, and she grins. "I'm just drawn to it. I also like that it distinguishes me as photographer, because not a lot of people are doing it. It's something I can call mine. I know that probably sounds selfish, and it is. I don't care, though. Everyone wants to be known for something. Hayden called me a 'retro selfie master' once. I could get used to that."

Nathan snorts. "You are something else, Max Caulfield," he says. "No wonder Vic's intimidated by you. You got your own style and you make it your own." He bobs his head lightly. "I can respect that. Don't get me wrong; I don't think selfies are the way to go. Too egocentric for my tastes." He raises his hands in defense. "But hey, that's just me, so don't start bitching."

Max smirks. "Maybe you should lighten up on your material," she tells him. "Photograph some cute puppies wearing pajamas and sleeping in a field of flowers. Ditch the whole black and white aesthetic, because that's _so_ basic. But _hey_ , that's just me."

"Meow," Nathan says, a smug grin slapped across his face. "You're feistier than you look. I didn't know this side of you existed. I like it."

Max rolls her eyes. "I didn't know you could _not_ be a total ass," she quips. "I like it."

Nathan laughs, and moments after he does, the entire store begins to light up, slowly but surely. Everyone looks around at each other, hesitant to move. Just because the lights are back doesn't mean everything is in the clear. A heavy silence falls over the entire crowd. It is eerily quiet. Max holds her breath. The distorted sound of a megaphone blasts from outside.

The manager of the store walks over to the huddle of shoppers. "Just got a call from ABPD," he tells them. "It's confirmed. You're all free to go!"

A huge wave of relief overtakes the crowd. People sigh and begin to mumble amongst themselves, and one by one, they start getting up from the ground. Max's body eases up; she can truly be at peace now. She glances at Nathan, who seems to have relaxed as well. He catches a glimpse of her and flashes a soft smile. Max returns it. They too stand up, saying nothing for a moment and just soaking in the fact that they're safe and _they made it._

Nathan looks at Max, grinning and shaking his head. "You know," he begins, "it's weird as hell. I don't know why, but ridiculous shit tends to happen whenever we run into each other outside of school."

Max pauses for a minute, and really ponders it. The boy is right. Is it coincidence? Fate? The thought of it is rather entertaining. "That is weird," she says, amused. Max eyes him slyly. "Maybe the universe is hinting that we should avoid each other."

Nathan grins. He wiggles his eyebrows at Max. "Or maybe," he begins, "the universe is hinting that we should be together."

They both share a laugh. It has certainly been quite a ride, but Max is grateful for it. At the very least, they aren't enemies. At the very least, being stuck together in various inconvenient and tense situations has given them some time to get to know a little more about each other, something that wouldn't happen under normal circumstances. And at the very least, perhaps they can become friends, eventually.

Perhaps they already are.

_Fin._

_Part 3 of 3._


End file.
